A Twist of Fate by Demelza Hart

trying.’
    â€˜I’m sorry.’ Here I was, back from surviving an air crash and being stranded on a desert island, and I was already the one doing the comforting.
    â€˜Is …?’ I glanced around.
    â€˜What, sweetie?’
    â€˜Is Rupert here?’
    My parents exchanged a brief look, similar to ones they’d done when I opened a hoped-for Christmas present. ‘He did ask to but we were the only ones allowed here. Sorry, darling.’
    Relief careened through me, and that caused shock too. I covered it by giving my mother a meek smile. ‘I understand.’
    â€˜He’s been calling and calling. It’ll be something of a relief that you can talk to him now. It’s been a little insistent. You will …?’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜You will sort it out with him soon, won’t you? Poor boy, you have run him a merry dance, Callie.’
    â€˜Mum, not now.’
    My mother swallowed and held my arm. ‘No, sorry, darling, you’re right.’ She pulled me in for another hug, which I gratefully returned. I was used to my parents’ devotion to my ex. I wondered how much of my decision to go back to him stemmed from them.
    â€˜Come on then, Callie. Let’s take you home.’ I felt my father’s guiding hand on my elbow. I looked over for Paul. He glanced up at me.
    â€˜Just a moment.’
    As I walked towards him, he stood up.
    â€˜I’m off then,’ I said, not sure what to do with my hands.
    â€˜Right.’
    â€˜Thanks for … you know, saving my life and all that.’
    â€˜Yeah, well, thanks for … all that. Here. My number. I’d like you to ring me sometime. I’d like that a lot.’ He handed me a slip of paper. I took it with a sigh.
    â€˜Paul …’
    There was a silence. I could feel the watery grey eyes of his father on me. Eventually, Paul held out his hand. ‘Bye then, Callie.’
    I wanted to hold him, hug him, kiss him. But I just took his hand and shook it as if we’d concluded a business deal. ‘Bye, Paul.’
    And then I left in the bustle of my parents and my CISD officer.

Nine
    The counsellor – Anna, this time – would be staying over for a few days until she was satisfied I wasn’t going to ‘do something silly’, as my mother put it. What? Dress up as Dolly Parton and go strutting down the High Street singing ‘9 to 5’? No, not that kind of silly, my mother tutted. My father smiled softly, all the while looking out of the window.
    I was feeling at home already.
    It was wonderful to lie in my old bed, wonderful to feel the gentle nuzzle of the dog’s head in my lap, wonderful to hear the familiar chimes of the grandfather clock in the hall. I really had survived, and I’d longed for it. But after my first night’s sleep, I awoke restless already. Something was missing. I knew what it was – or rather, who it was – but wouldn’t allow myself to admit it.
    Just after eight, my phone rang. I picked it up, half hoping it was Paul, but then, how could it be? He’d given me his number, I hadn’t given him mine. I saw the display: Rupert.
    I waited to feel excited when he rang, the way I did at university. I didn’t. I fixed my face into a smile before I pressed ‘accept’, hoping that the false happiness would spread to my voice.
    â€˜Hello!’ I said, a little over-enthusiastically.
    â€˜Callie, oh God, Callie, thank God you’re back.’
    I laughed brightly. ‘Yup.’
    â€˜I just … God, I can’t tell you what hell I was in those few days.’
    â€˜It must have been very awful. Worse for the families of those who didn’t make it.’ A lurch took hold of my stomach. They’d warned me about survivor’s guilt. So far, my confusion over Paul had helped dissipate it.
    â€˜But you’re back. I’ve got you back.’
    I didn’t